quite understand her own feelings. After all, this was not the first time that Mathilde had annoyed her; she had never liked Mathilde; it was enough to make her spill the tea or the milk if Mathilde entered the room unexpectedly; and so she really could not quite understand why she was so very angry and thinking so much of Addie, simply because Mathilde had carried on so with Johan Erzeele, why it should irritate her so that Constance—on principle, she could understand that much—was taking Mathilde's part, why it should irritate her that Mamma and Emilie were sitting so sad and silent, that Granny was sitting so feeble and silently trembling in her far corner, why it should irritate her that Adeletje and Guy should keep on playing backgammon:
"Three and four. . . ."
"Two and five. . . . Imperial. . . . Once more. . . ."
She was very much overwrought; and, when Mathilde came in for tea—the children were now asleep—Gerdy's little face quivered; she could hardly contain herself; but she made the effort, because Constance was looking at her in such surprise. And, to keep herself in countenance, she went in search of Uncle Henri, found Van der Welcke in the passage, on the point of coming in, and asked him:
"Uncle, are you coming to play a rubber?"
"If you like, dear. Who's going to make up?"
"Marietje, I dare say, and Alex."
"Is the other Marietje, Mary, downstairs?"
"No, Uncle, she's up in her room."
"This house of ours is a regular hospital, eh?"
"Oh, it's not as bad as that, Uncle! . . . I think it's a very nice house."
"You do, do you?"
